


Purple Fire

by varelsen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, spoilers for s5e4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varelsen/pseuds/varelsen
Summary: “Maybe I can help you … relax.”Those pretty cat eyes widen in mock surprise. “What are you suggesting, exactly?”Shiro bites his lip, trails his eyes slowly down Lotor’s body, then back up.“Oh, you arebold.”





	Purple Fire

**Author's Note:**

> hey so if you follow me on tumblr you'll know shotor has me WHIPPED, so here's a little oneshot i churned out after s5 blessed us with that so very conveniently omitted lion ride to the kral zera. i hope u enjoy~

The Black Lion glides silently through space, cleaving the void with the ease of a ship in water.

Shiro’s hands, human and metal, are curled loosely around the controls. To his right, just behind the pilot’s seat, Prince Lotor stands like an elegant shadow.

Just them. No one knows they’re here.

It’s only a matter of time before the others figure it out, but they have a head start. Speeding past planets and nebulae and strange astral auroras, toward the Kral Zera.

“Thank you,” says Lotor. His crisp voice sounds so lonely in the tiny bubble of Black’s cockpit. “For supporting this endeavor.”

“Of course,” Shiro replies, eyes fixed on the starscape ahead. “You’re doing the right thing. You’re the only one who can lead this empire.”

He’s not sure why the conviction is rooted so deep, but sometimes a soldier has to trust his instincts. If Shiro’s learned anything from Keith, it’s that.

“Really,” Lotor goes on, barely above a murmur. “It means more than I can say. You went against your team. I … I know that’s not an easy position to be in.”

The kernel of rage in the pit of Shiro’s belly hardens, reminding him that it’s there. That it never left.

“I’m their leader. I give the orders.” There it comes again: a flash of anger and – shit, damn it – guilt, as the hurt in Lance’s blue eyes flickers past in his mind.

_ He questioned my authority,  _ Shiro tells himself, for the millionth time. But there’s another voice inside him, and it’s heavy with disappointment. Shiro flinches away, turns his back on himself, even as that same inner voice whispers,  _ You should apologize. _

Later. He’ll deal with Lance – with everyone – later.

Right now, Lotor is all there is. His golden eyes are warm with something like affection, and he holds his towering frame ramrod straight.

Handsome. Ethereal. Damaged and still standing.

With what he’s been through, surely he understands.

“Maybe so. Still, I know it’s hard.” Lotor’s hand finds Shiro’s, settles on top of it to give it the briefest squeeze. A lightning spark zaps through Shiro, as if Lotor had been touching his flesh, and not glove-covered metal. “And I appreciate it.”

“Putting you on that throne is the right decision,” he says, voice unyielding as a clenched fist. For now, his own self-righteous stubbornness eclipses the electricity buzzing in the air.

Lotor doesn’t argue. Of course he doesn’t. Why is Shiro approaching everyone as if they will? 

_ What’s wrong with me?  _ He needs to breathe deep, or something.  _ Does Coran know any Altean yoga? _

This fretting is useless. Time for a change of subject.

“This planet … Feyiv. Have you ever seen it before?”

“Never,” Lotor replies, gazing out the window, at the distant stars. His eyelashes cast long shadows down his cheeks. “No one but the Archivist ever visits, unless there’s a Kral Zera. And there hasn’t been one for ten thousand years.”

As his words trail off, the specter of Zarkon descends heavy upon the cockpit.  _ He’s dead. He’s gone.  _ Still, Shiro’s history with the fallen tyrant remains a leaden shackle around his neck. He can’t even begin to imagine what the burden must be like for Lotor.

_ He killed his own father. _

Shiro clears his throat. The harshness of the sound nearly makes him flinch. “We never thanked you. For what you did.”

“I did only what I had to,” says Lotor, face grim. “And that is what I will continue to do.”

“Are you nervous?”

_ Wow, stupid question.  _ Still, it warrants asking. Lotor’s composure is the stuff of legends.

“I cannot allow myself to be. I have a responsibility to these people.” Lotor slants his yellow gaze at Shiro. “I’m sure you know the feeling.”

Shiro hums in agreement. Indeed he does.

This time, he allows himself to acknowledge what he’s feeling. That tingling between them that’s more than just understanding. That odd magnetism.

Attraction.

He weighs each word carefully on his tongue.

“Maybe I can help you … relax.”

Those pretty cat eyes widen in mock surprise. “What are you suggesting, exactly?”

Shiro bites his lip, trails his eyes slowly down Lotor’s body, then back up.

“Oh, you are  _ bold _ .”

The truth is, this is not all for Lotor’s sake. Shiro’s been wound tight as a spring lately, so fucking tense, so irritable. It doesn't help that he feels like shit for snapping at Lance. But if Lance could  _ ever  _ keep his mouth shut, adds the pettiest part of him, maybe it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

So, yeah. Tense.

This  _ thing  _ between him and the Galra Prince is his only release.

The spark was there from the start, in the way they looked at one another from opposite sides of the glass. Shiro blamed it on adrenaline, on inviting the enemy in. He didn’t question himself for going down to Lotor’s cell without Allura, to interrogate him alone. And he dismissed the undeniable connection that zapped between their fingertips when he handed Lotor the black bayard, away from everyone else’s eyes.

It wasn’t until after the battle with Zarkon, when Lotor – still devastated, still shaken – came to thank Shiro in private for what he’d done, that that taut string finally snapped.

They ended up on the floor of Shiro’s room before they ever made it to the bed.

And since then, there’s been this. Whatever this is.

“Space is big,” Shiro murmurs, still gazing straight out the window. “We have time.”

Beside him, Lotor shifts his weight from foot to foot. “The Black Lion can fly herself?”

“The Black Lion does what I tell her.” Despite himself, he scoffs, “At least somebody does.”

Lotor frowns. “Don’t worry so much, Shiro. Your team does trust you.”

_ Like yours trusted you?  _ “Then they should respect my orders.”

“They will.”

“They better.” Shiro turns his head to stare into Lotor’s eyes. “And what about you?”

Devastating tilted smirk. “Why don’t you find out?”

As if to punctuate Lotor’s words, Shiro unclasps the belts fastening him into Black’s pilot seat. He swipes his hands over a few settings on the dashboard, setting the mech to autopilot. As the Lion continues cruising through the stars, Shiro gets to his feet and steps aside.

“Get in the chair. Put the seat back and lie down.”

His commanding officer voice makes Lotor’s lips quirk with amusement. It would have pissed Shiro off if it were anyone else, but Lotor isn’t one of his people. He’s a leader in his own right, and  _ fuck _ , it’s a relief to finally be head to head with someone he’s not responsible for.

Lotor turns his back on Shiro, and begins to undo the clasps on his armor.

Mirroring him, Shiro removes his helmet, his vambraces, his breastplate. One piece at a time, his armor clatters to the floor, until he’s standing in the cockpit wearing only the tight black undersuit. This will be a pain to get back into, but like he said – space is big.

They have time.

Lotor without his armor is vulnerable and powerful all at once. The strength in those cut muscles is undeniable, and yet no one else on the team has seen a single inch of skin below Lotor’s slender neck.

Some deep, dark part of Shiro smirks in satisfaction.

Lotor gets into the pilot’s seat, sprawling languid and aloof. His eyes lick Shiro’s body like flames devouring a forest. “Come here.”

“Patience,” Shiro teases.

He walks over to the seat. The blue glow of the Lion’s interface falls on Lotor, illuminating every sculpted plane of his beautiful body. Shiro’s mouth actually  _ waters _ .

Lotor’s cat-eyes linger on Shiro’s, then drop to his lips, his still-covered collarbone. The slightest flush suffuses his cheeks. “So …”

“So,” Shiro repeats, placing his hands on Lotor’s thighs and squeezing. Then, he drops smoothly to his knees.

“Ah,” says Lotor, soft and knowing.

Without taking his eyes off Lotor’s, Shiro strokes between Lotor’s legs with the heel of his palm. The spot is smooth, damp, pulsing. The blissful sigh that elicits from Lotor goes right to Shiro’s groin. He’s hard already, aching to touch himself. 

Instead, Shiro leans in, breathes on the fabric of Lotor’s undergarments, then hooks his fingers in the waistband and slowly pulls them down.

Prince Lotor is hairless, the slit between his strong legs much tauter and less welcoming than anything human Shiro has ever seen.

That’s only at first glance, though. He’s learning his way around Lotor’s body.

Tossing the underwear aside and looping his arms around Lotor’s thighs, he licks the slit, runs his tongue up and down, teasing and slow. Tastes the clear fluid beading there, dripping from the cock-head nestled just inside the lips.

And there must be  _ something  _ in that wetness, because soon after tasting it Shiro’s whole body begins to burn, a coal-fire heating him down to his core. There are galaxies in his bones and behind his eyes, and he  _ feels  _ everything so much he could sob.

It’s good. Bordering on addictive.

Lotor’s thighs, on either side of Shiro’s head, start to tremble from deep within.

The tip of Shiro’s tongue probes between those folds of delicate skin, touches the head of Lotor’s cock. He licks at it, slow and rhythmic, gentle but relentless. Up and down, stroking the flat of his tongue over each lip, then darting back in to tease that warm tightness.

He pulls back just slightly, and Lotor whines.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?” Shiro says, forcing down a pleased grin. “If you can hold it in, I’ll keep going.”

“Mm, I can’t—”

Lotor’s words break off as his cock starts to push out of him, an inch at a time.

Well, okay then.

Shiro hums and dives back in, licking around the base to ease the way until it’s extended to its full length.

Like the rest of him, it’s bigger than what you’d find on most humans. The skin is almost translucent, pulsing ever so slightly, the tip flushed pinker than the rest of his body. Shiro’s used to it now – no foreskin, no visible balls, just those velvet lips and this wonder stashed behind them – but it was a surprise the first time they got naked together.

The feeling was mutual. Lotor had been equally amazed and perplexed by Shiro’s balls.

“These are your gonads? Why are they on the  _ outside _ ?”

Flushing at the awkward technicality of it, Shiro had done his best to explain what he’d retained from high school biology, about sperm and body heat. Lotor stared at him with genuinely inquisitive eyes.

“Fascinating. Are they erogenous?”

As his lips and hands would find out, they were indeed.

It’s Shiro’s turn to be doing the spoiling now, though. He nuzzles up against Lotor’s fully extended cock, presses a few messy kisses to the side. His tongue laves against it, getting it wetter than it already is.

“Oh, yes …” Lotor whispers, reaching down to massage his fingers gently over Shiro’s scalp. Shiro takes that as his cue to take him in his mouth again, and Lotor immediately stifles a moan.

Shiro pushes forward until he chokes, until tears spring up at the corners of his eyes. Lotor’s hand at the back of his head is so gentle, feels so good. He forces his eyes open, looks across the expanse of smooth purple torso and straight into Lotor’s eyes.

“Shit—!”

_ Yeah. He needs this too.  _

Shiro slips off, ignoring the threads of saliva still connecting his lips to the swollen head.

“If you didn’t need your legs,” he rasps, out of his used throat, “I’d fuck you on my fingers.” He curls and uncurls the fingers of his mechanical hand, where Lotor can see them, close enough to hear the barely-audible whirr of joints and servos.

Lotor’s body tightens up under Shiro’s flesh hand, his hips moving restlessly. “Shiro, fuck …”

“Will you still give it to me when you’re the Emperor?” Shiro asks, in his most satiny voice. Without waiting for an answer, he slides back onto Lotor’s cock and sucks, hard.

The noises that gets out of Lotor caress him as though they had hands of their own, send shivers skittering over his skin. Shiro glances up, through his eyelashes, lips stretched and swollen around Lotor.

Lotor’s eyes are hazy with desire, the points of his teeth visible behind his parted lips.

“What would they say if they saw you like this?” Even breathless and panting, he manages to keep his voice a purr. “The Black Paladin, completely undone …”

“They won’t see me like this,” Shiro whispers, into the hollow of Lotor’s thigh. “You’re the only one who gets to have me on my knees.”

Lotor’s hand finds Shiro’s, strokes down his forearm all the way to his bicep, where it pauses to knead the bulging muscle.

“So sexy,” he breathes. The accent alone has the hairs standing up on the back of Shiro’s neck. 

“You want me?”

“Of course I do.”

Shiro gets to his feet. “Then let me get on you before you come.”

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” Lotor says. A ripple of satisfaction passes through Shiro at how eager he sounds.

“I’ll be sitting down inside a massive war machine. All you’ll have out there is your sword.” Shiro steps out of the suit’s leggings, dropping his boxers with them and leaving them puddled on the floor. “Let me take care of you.”

Lotor’s eyes immediately magnetize to Shiro’s crotch, where his dick curves up toward his stomach, flushed and erect. The heat pooling in Shiro’s core beams out to the rest of his body. Whatever sense-heightening stuff is in Lotor’s pre-cum has him breaking out in a burning sweat.

He’s feverish, and he wants this.

Shiro straddles Lotor, over the chair. Runs his open palms up ripped abs.

Sighing with pleasure, Lotor’s hands caress Shiro in return, rolling the hem of his tight-fitting shirt over every taut muscle of his stomach and chest until it’s bunched below his armpits. Long, elegant fingers find Shiro’s nipples and tweak them. The sudden pain makes him gasp, body instinctively tightening up.

Little shudders still rack Shiro as Lotor continues to explore his body. He deliberately avoids tracing Shiro’s scars, treating them as though they were nothing but unblemished skin.

_ Your scars are a part of you, but they don’t define you. _

Lotor’s fingertips find a fading love bite, pressing at it until the soreness of the bruise tears a groan from deep in Shiro’s chest.

“You’re ready?”

“Yeah.”

He’s trembling with excitement. How couldn’t he be?

Lotor sucks two fingers into his mouth, then dips them down between his own legs, slicking them up with his own copious wetness.

One of those fingers strokes around Shiro’s rim, pushes in, nice and slow. Shiro’s heart punches him in the ribs, once, twice, then again as the second finger joins the first. They move in and out of him, slick and unrelenting, until he’s a stretched, quivering mess.

“Mmm …”

Lotor pulls his fingers out. So softly, so earnestly, he begs, “Fuck yourself on me. Please.”

_ Oh, trust me, I will. _

Shiro grasps Lotor’s dick with his flesh hand, and uses his metal one to hold on to the side of the seat, steady himself. He lifts his body up, drags the tip of that dick between his cheeks a few times, teasing.

“ _ Fuck _ , stop that and just—”

He chuckles, deep in his throat. Sinks down onto Lotor, screwing his eyes shut against the burn that gradually fades into sweet, pulsing pleasure. 

Once Lotor is as far inside him as he’ll go, Shiro lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“You feel so damn good inside.”

Lotor’s beautiful hair spreads out around his head, silver as moonlight against the black seat. “So hot, Shiro …”

“Mmh.” Shiro starts to roll his body, smooth movements that let him feel every inch, hard and hot inside him. It only takes a few strokes for his flesh arm to start trembling, before he needs to clench his teeth to hold in the torrid waves lapping through him.

They’re burning his mind to a crisp. Every last shred of reason crumbling.

Lotor’s hands find his waist, holding him tenderly, although he’s strong enough to bruise Shiro’s skin.

Shiro is a big man. This – being with someone who could pick him up and hurl him headfirst into a wall – has woken up a part of him that very seldom sees the light.

He picks up his pace, stomach muscles straining with exertion. His mouth drops open, but he’s too euphoric to summon the willpower to close it again. A thin strand of saliva leaks from the corner of his lips, trickles to his chin and drips onto his chest. His mind is too gone to care.

He tightens his thighs along Lotor’s sides, relishes Lotor’s hands landing on them and stroking, squeezing. “You’re so gorgeous.”

A wordless moan is all he can manage in response, followed by a sharp gasp as Lotor grazes a tender spot inside him. He rolls his hips in a circle, his metal hand gripping the seat the only thing keeping him halfway stable.

“You like being fucked until you break?” Lotor breathes, a serrated edge in that honey voice. Shiro sucks in a sharp breath, looks down at Lotor’s face through slitted eyes. That edge hasn’t come out to cut anything a single time since he was released from the sealed chamber. Only here, in secret, with Shiro falling apart on his cock, does Lotor’s blur focus and his thorns slide into view.

_ They’re still there. Remember that. _

And he’s into it.  _ Scratch me up, rip me open.  _ It’s desperate, indulgent, coming from the part of him that craves that pain – the pain that gives him an excuse to hit back harder.

Not a Paladin, not a Champion, not even a good person. Just a slut, losing his damn mind. Shiro sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, a hot flush flaring in his cheeks.

He grabs Lotor’s hands, longer than his own, but bonier and thinner. He interlaces their fingers, his abs and thighs taut with effort as he rides Lotor harder into his own pilot’s seat. “Fuck yes, that’s so good – ah …”

“Right there?” Lotor pants, thrusting up to meet Shiro, hitting that spot inside him that is so sensitive he sees stars.

“Yeah, oh …” He bites down on his lip, grinds his hips, still holding onto Lotor’s hands like they’re his lifeline.

Lotor pulls one free and slides it down Shiro’s torso. His thumb arcs back and forth along the ridges of Shiro’s abs, leaving a trail of heat sizzling on his skin, before it finds his cock and starts to stroke it.

“Lotor, fuck …”

“Oh, Shiro, Shiro …”

Whatever that substance Lotor exudes is, the one that drives Shiro crazy, it seems to be leaking into his very bloodstream from the spot where their bodies connect. Shiro lifts himself up, drops back down, every inch of his skin alight as he fucks himself fast and hard.

It’s building in his belly – the wave, near to cresting, growing higher and higher inside of him. His face breaks out in a fresh fever-sweat.  _ Stars, I don’t even want to know what I look like— _

“You’re so fucking perfect, Shiro,” Lotor breathes, and that gives him the final push he needs – the wave comes crashing into shore, takes him with it, sweeps him helplessly along.

As he goes under, it turns his mind blissfully, endlessly white.

When Shiro comes back to himself, Lotor is still thrusting into him, expression contorted with near-release. Shiro’s cum is spattered on his chest, white on lilac.

He tightens up around Lotor, deliberately, and bounces his body. His skin, so sensitive post-orgasm, is hyper-aware of the dewy sweat on their limbs, the hot slip-slide of thighs on sides.

The interplay of emotions on Lotor’s chiseled face is beautiful to watch: minute tightening of the brow, tiny breathless gasp parting his trembling lips, eyelids fluttering before they clench shut and a sweet moan leaves him soft as a sigh. 

Lotor comes inside him, and Shiro watches every muscle in his face tense up and relax as his own insides are painted with heat.

And oh, those sounds he makes – they’re so tempting Shiro can’t help himself. He has to taste them.

He lets his body fall forward, chest pressing to Lotor’s chest, and kisses his wet lips. His own cum smears onto his damp skin. A hand lands on the curve of his ass, clenching nice and firm. Lotor’s tongue tangles with his, pushes into Shiro’s mouth and draws back, teasing and just out of reach.

They’re on their way into a war zone. Spending these last few moments before they need eyes in every direction lost in each other and entirely blind … it’s delicious. Chocolate-cake-after-the-gym delicious. The guilt only makes it sweeter.

Shiro twists one hand into Lotor’s hair, drawing a little noise of pleasure out of him. His fangs prick Shiro’s lower lip like tiny needles. Shiro kisses harder, presses his tongue up against them until he feels the bite of pain. He whimpers, and Lotor’s hand tightens on his ass.

The kissing slows, and slows, until it’s just a lazy play of lips on lips. Finally, Shiro breaks away, drops his head onto Lotor’s shoulder and nuzzles into his neck.

Lotor shifts his hips to properly pull out of Shiro, his dick beginning to draw back up into his body. Still-warm cum trickles onto Shiro’s thighs. He shudders with delight, and Lotor’s arms wrap around him, squeezing him close.

Lotor presses his nose into Shiro’s hair, his chest rising and falling in a deep, contented sigh.

He’s so warm. His heartbeat is still racing, just slightly out of time with Shiro’s own.

It’s tempting – so, so tempting – to stay draped over him that way, blissed out and hazy. But years of training and discipline, and the looming task ahead, win out.

_ The mission is waiting. Don’t forget about that. _

As if he could.

Shiro allows himself just one more second in their tiny, closed-off world. Then he strains against Lotor’s arms until they drop back to his sides and pushes himself up, propping his weight on one elbow.

He gazes down at Lotor’s face. His eyelashes are so long, his skin so smooth, the pores smaller and less visible than on a human.

_ Stop staring, idiot. _

“We should get ready.”

Lotor makes a noncommittal rumbling noise, and they slowly disentangle, getting back onto wobbly legs.

There are all sorts of things in the Black Lion’s glove compartment, including some sort of wet tissues Shiro suspects are actually for cleaning the dashboard, but beggars can’t be choosers. He pulls a couple out of the packet and hands them to Lotor, then gets to work on himself.

After they wipe down their bodies, they help each other back into their armor. It’s swift and efficient, and Lotor only drops a single kiss onto Shiro’s shoulder in the process.

Space is big, and they still have a long way to go.

Shiro gets back in the defiled seat – somewhat more gingerly than earlier – and Lotor resumes his standing position. They barely speak as they hurtle through the stars, space passing around them like time. Shiro stares straight ahead, trying to focus on the mission, but his mind can’t help but wander. Beneath all of the heavy armor, Lotor’s touch still lingers on his skin, and his hips, and his neck, and—

—his head  _ explodes  _ with sudden, searing pain – pain like an ice-pick being driven into his skull, like circuit-boards disintegrating, blinding him with metallic white light—

“Shiro? Everything all right?”

Lotor’s voice reaches him as if through water. The excruciating agony is gone as quickly as it came. Shiro swings his head back and forth, shaking it off. “Agh … I’m sorry. Just a headache.”

Lotor frowns, but reaches out to give Shiro’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Well, it better pass. We’re approaching.”

Indeed. The slate-grey sphere of Feyiv towers ahead of them, the molten moon caught in its orbit looming impossibly huge. The cracks in its hardened surface glow orange, illuminated by the heart’s-blood of an ancient world.

Shiro exhales, ignores the pumping of his heart. The air has changed, thrumming with a different kind of anticipation.

They’re both tensing right back up.

“Thanks for the ride, then,” Lotor says, with a wry edge to his voice that’s so sexy it has Shiro’s insides doing flips all over again.

“No problem.” A smirk slides onto his own face. “Back at you.”

That low, melodious laugh.  _ Fuck. _

They plunge through the atmosphere, past supermassive cloud-columns, and cruise swiftly above mountain ranges as tall and jagged as the spine of some tremendous beast.

As they streak over the rocky surface of planet Feyiv, the fuchsia flame of the Kral Zera swims into view. Shiro sneaks a glance to the side. Its distant flicker is mirrored in the slit pupils of Lotor’s eyes.

Shiro flips a few switches, adjusts Black’s settings to bring her in for landing. She rumbles beneath their feet, and Shiro’s ears pop as they begin their descent in earnest.

Up ahead, the flame goes out.

The Ruler-To-Be takes a deep breath in, and exhales slowly. Doubt leaks from his face, becomes replaced by conviction. 

Shiro squares his own shoulders, sets his jaw.

“Let’s go crown you Emperor.”

Lotor’s gaze stays on Shiro for another moment before drifting back out the window. Behind his mask of graveness, Shiro senses something else – a bright, determined energy, an impish glee.

His lips curve in the slightest of smiles.

“Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love comments! they contain the perfect balance of healthy nutrients.  
> you can also find me on [tumblr!](http://lvtvr.tumblr.com)


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